


of dying gods and fallen stars

by astroblemish



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroblemish/pseuds/astroblemish
Summary: Jongdae just wants to see Baekhyun when he's shining his brightest.





	of dying gods and fallen stars

**Author's Note:**

> more procrastinating studying by writing random shit it seems. also trying to get over my fear of publishing. hm...  
> this is mildly influenced by american gods, probably

* * *

 

Jongdae wakes up in streaks of red and gold. As he opens his eyes, inhaling, light illuminates the sky, chasing away the darkness of the night over the other side of the horizon; Jongdae’s fingertips reach to hold onto it, but it’s already slipping away.

Baekhyun is waiting for him.

He’s smiling at Jongdae, giving a small little wave from across the distance separating them; Jongdae had hoped today would be one of those special days, where Baekhyun is stubborn and hangs around, but apparently not. The sky turns a soft, baby blue in the morning light, and Jongdae blinks to get rid of the sunspots in his eyes. Then, Baekhyun is gone.

Another day the sun must endure alone.

  
  


What Jongdae remembers from before, is very little. He remembers being scattered, a cloud of dust in a deep darkness, and he remembers everything growing very, very hot. He remembers the parts of him that had been torn off, watched them transform in front of his eyes, but the rest of his memories are disjointed and far away, hazy like the details of a dream that slip from his grasp the longer he remains awake. The only thing Jongdae remembers strongly of _before_ , is seeing something tiny and brand new shining in the distance, looking at him. Nothing else in the galaxy ever looked at Jongdae --everything is too busy moving away as the universe expands or spinning constantly so they don’t have to; he’s too bright, after all-- but this one had been, tiny and sparkling and beautiful, nothing more than a speckle in the corner of Jongdae’s eye, but it had caught his attention all the same.

It’s funny how powerful faith can be, in hindsight. Faith gave Jongdae form, and belief keeps him alive. Humans have always been the only creatures stupid enough to stare at Jongdae unwaveringly, which is why his sharpest memory is of waking up alone, with hands and fingers and _feet_ , in the middle of a burnt out crater. It had been sunrise, then --as it always in when Jongdae wakes up-- but even as the sun had crested over the horizon, the moon had remained in the sky, curious to see what had been made of the falling star. It was watching over Jongdae even back then, he’d known, curved into a delighted, crescent smile as Jongdae had watched it back, a silent greeting between them, of sorts.

Then, suddenly, it was gone, and Jongdae was alone again.

  


 

In older times, belief made Jongdae powerful, and the world was his to command. Reality could be bent at his every will, heaven was his to rule, blood was spilt in his name.

But in modern times, Jongdae is tired, lethargic, his power has waned and his existence feels like a ghost of his former self, a mere whisper of an impression upon the earth’s surface. Belief had given him power, and nobody believes in Jongdae, anymore; to them, all he is is a burning presence in their sky, that rises and falls each day, so that is all Jongdae has become.

It’s a fruitless existence, repetitive, inane, boring. But there are some things that make Jongdae happy to be here.

Baekhyun is having a stubborn day, today, it seems, petulantly remaining in the sky even as Jongdae’s light attempts to push him away --not through choice, of course. He’s following Jongdae and humming underneath his breath as they walk amongst the humans, entirely unnoticed --well, partially. Nobody ever looks at Jongdae, for they’ll hurt their eyes, but Baekhyun is the embodiment of love songs and poems, the epitome of beauty, everybody always stares at Baekhyun, for nobody can keep their eyes away.

Jongdae included.

He’s staring at him right now, as Baekhyun continues singing, brushing his fingers over the flowers of a nearby tree that hangs above their heads. They giggle beneath his touch.

“What?” Baekhyun asks, having caught Jongdae staring. “Did I miss a note?”

Jongdae shakes his head, still smiling. “I wouldn’t care even if you had.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Sap,” he chastises, although there’s no true bite to it. Jongdae longs to wrap his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, bury his face in the crook of his neck, and the urge to do so aches. It cannot be done. “Do you recognise the song?” Baekhyun questions.

“No,” Jongdae admits. “Should I?”

“I’d hope so,” Baekhyun replies, lips twitching upwards as he turns his face. “You sang it to me first.”

Jongdae doesn’t remember, frowning, and Baekhyun laughs at the expression on his face, a sound more beautiful than any song in the world. Baekhyun is gorgeous underneath the shade of the tree, allowing his soft light to glow faintly through the silver of his hair and the dusting of stars across his nose and cheekbones, twinkling. It terrifies Jongdae every time he thinks about it, that this is Baekhyun at his weakest, faint and transparent, and almost all his waking hours are spent wondering how beautiful Baekhyun truly is at nighttime.

“Don’t you remember?” Baekhyun prompts, pulling Jongdae from his thoughts with a tilt of his head. A speck of stardust shakes off his skin at the gesture. “It was one of their worship songs… not that you ever realised that, back then, but you told me you wanted me to hear it because you liked the tune, so you sang it.”

Jongdae remembers slightly now, fuzzy and static, streaked in sepia, but a memory all the same.

His eyes widen. “ _You_ remember that?” Jongdae asks, mildly horrified, and Baekhyun just laughs delightedly, unbothered. “Oh my god…” Years of being surrounded by humans have given Jongdae odd amounts of slang; the irony is not lost on him. “I was such a loser.”

“It was cute,” Baekhyun says sweetly, smiling fondly. He hadn’t even had form, back then --on the rare days where Baekhyun would stick in the sky, Jongdae would talk to him, sing to him, anything in hopes that it would mean Baekhyun would keep looking at him like that.

“I didn’t even think you could hear me,” Jongdae whines, shirking into his shoulders, face hot. The temperature of the air around them increases.

“Of course I could hear you,” Baekhyun says. “I’m always listening to you.” He reaches forward then, to cup Jongdae’s cheek, but his hand stops, a mere centimetre above his skin, hovering. The expression on Baekhyun’s face turns to sadness, and Jongdae curls his fingers around his wrist in reassurance. Not touching him, of course --such a thing is impossible-- but at least pretending that he can, or reminding Baekhyun that the ache in his heart is a mutual feeling.

“I was lovesick,” Jongdae says quietly, hoping to continue the conversation to stop Baekhyun’s face from looking so crestfallen. His hand lowers, slowly, and Jongdae’s heart _yearns_. “Could you blame me?”

“We didn’t even know each other,” Baekhyun shakes his head in exasperation, rolling his eyes --all done with fondness, of course.

“I didn’t need to meet you to know I loved you,” Jongdae replies easily, as Baekhyun just scoffs all over again. Jongdae smiles down at the ground in thought. “You were the most beautiful thing in the sky, the only one who ever looked at me.” The only one willing to stay by his side during the day.

Baekhyun laughs, a mix between embarrassment and disbelief. “But don’t you get it, Jongdae?” He asks, a hand beneath Jongdae’s chin, contactless, as if to tilt his head up, forcing Jongdae into looking at Baekhyun, the galaxies in his eyes, the moonlight in his hair, the cosmos dotted across his skin. “I only shine because of you.”

Jongdae shakes his head, refusing to believe it. “You shine because you’re you,” he insists. “I’m not the one who makes you kind, or selfless, or funny, or beautiful, or _stubborn_ \--”

Baekhyun laughs at that last one, Jongdae smiling in response. “I am none of those things,” he refutes. “Except stubborn.” Baekhyun quickly adds. “I am definitely stubborn.”

Jongdae’s grin widens; it’s a characteristic Baekhyun can’t deny when he’s here in front of Jongdae, right in the middle of the day.

“You are all of those things,” Jongdae corrects, plucking a small, white bud from a nearby branch that leans down to accommodate his reach. It blooms beneath his fingertips, a lost memory of what his power once was. “And more. Words were not invented to do you justice, Baekhyun.”

“Of all the terrible poetry people have written about me,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head with curved eyes. “Yours is the worst. And there is a _lot_ of terrible poetry written about me.”

“That’s okay,” Jongdae relents, laughing freely. “Because all of them may have been in love with the moon,” he kisses the flower’s petals, a gentle press of lips. “But I’m the only one the moon loves back.”

He holds the blossom out, and Baekhyun looks at him with an unreadable expression before taking the flower. Their fingers do not brush.

“Any more terrible sappiness and that might not continue to be the case,” Baekhyun says dryly, causing Jongdae to laugh. The smile doesn’t fade from his face even as Baekhyun presses a kiss to the petals right where Jongdae had, and tucks the blossom behind his ear.

  
  


When Jongdae had first wandered the earth, confused and lost and hurt, perplexed by his new existence, the moon had stubbornly remained in the sky even during the day, a faint impression upon the bright blue, just to watch over him.

Of course, Jongdae hadn’t been _sure_ if the moon was watching over him, but there had been an inkling of a feeling, deep in his brand new bones, something that told him he’d wanted to keep staring at Jongdae, unabashedly, like he always had. The concern had inflated Jongdae’s chests with butterflies --he’d known the moon was selfless and kind, because the humans always talked about it, how he lit up the sky to prevent eternal darkness, and pulled at the oceans to keep them back. Jongdae had never cared for the creatures on earth --he shined for them only because he shined for everyone else-- but the moon’s heart was larger than the universe itself, watching over all of Earth’s living things, and Jongdae’s heart had increased in size, too, because of it, but just for him.

For millennia Jongdae would search the skies in hopes that the moon had remained there, and each time it had Jongdae would sing to him, talk to him, ask him if he’d come down, if he’d like to meet Jongdae, properly, tell Jongdae his name. The longer time went on, the more Jongdae’s heart had longed for him, goading the moon closer with promises of love and worship, fun, adventure. Jongdae didn’t care much for this planet, but there were some things that made it worth seeing, food, animals, music, flowers… all of these he'd wanted to show the moon, up close and personal, having known that he must have longed to see it properly when he’d spent all his life so far away, just observing.

But the moon never came.

For all the people over the centuries to fall in love with the moon, Jongdae had been the first, and his fate was only cemented the moment he had caught the glimmer of a shooting star, one day. It had been early morning, just as Jongdae had begun to stir, and the flash of silver had only perplexed him until the ground had shook beneath his feet, and Jongdae had stood up within a moment, sensing _him_.

Baekhyun had been beautiful even then, naked and shivering, confused, huddled into his body as he'd blinked at his surroundings in confusion, stared at his hands with puzzlement. Jongdae hadn’t woken up alone, because the moon had been there for him; Jongdae had made sure to return the favour.

“Welcome to your new existence,” he’d told the moon, grinning. Nobody ever looks at Jongdae, but the moon had --blinking and squinting at the bright light, raising a hand to shadow over his eyes, but looking all the same. “I’m Jongdae.”

“I know,” the moon had replied, smiling lopsidedly. “You’ve been telling me your name for years.”

“Then what’s yours?” Jongdae had asked, as his heart had soared inside his chest and nearly burst.

“I don’t know,” the moon had replied, a look of confusion on his face. “I came down here to tell you, after all this time, but they haven’t given me one yet.”

As Jongdae’s power rose and stirred with every breath, the moon had just seemed to become more translucent, fading away. When Jongdae looked to the sky desperately, he saw him fading there, too.

“Next time,” Jongdae had tried quickly, frantic, hands clinging to the moon’s shoulders. “Next time, you can tell me your name.” It had felt more like a desperate, aching promise than anything else, wishing for him to confirm that this event wouldn’t only happen once, that he’d come back to Jongdae again.

The moon had blinked at him sleepily, stardust scattering with every sweep of his eyelashes.

“Okay,” he’d promised readily, a hand curled around Jongdae’s wrist. “I will.”

Then, he was gone.

  
  


Jongdae runs his hands along the ruins with melancholy powering each step, heart yearning for older times. It’s Jongdae who rises and falls and brings with him the passage of time, which is why it’s ironic that he wishes it could go backwards instead, or maybe even freeze, just for a moment.

But no, every morning, Jongdae must wake up, and every evening, Jongdae must go back to sleep.

Baekhyun appears later in the afternoon, as Jongdae’s imposed curfew nears, appearing silently behind Jongdae, wordless as he admires their surroundings. Jongdae has never asked how Baekhyun knows where to find him, he just always does.

“Feeling nostalgic?” Baekhyun asks eventually, teasing. “They just don’t build you temples like they used to, huh?”

His jibe doesn’t irk Jongdae, who has never cared for the humans flimsy dedications, anyway. Thousands of years ago, this temple had been a mountain of a monument, each stone hauled and carved delicately in Jongdae’s many names and images, wracked with gold and jewels and rivulets of blood, fit only for a god.

Now the monument is nothing, crumbling, a bare imprint of a structure in the ground, ransacked by bandits and thieves and _archaeologists_ as time had gone by.

A dead temple for a dying god.

But Jongdae doesn’t miss the gold or jewels or lives offered to him in his name, doesn’t miss the blind, endless worship --although perhaps he somewhat misses the power that had come because of it-- he only misses the memory.

“You don’t remember?” He chides Baekhyun, sly, stepping closer to Baekhyun with a curl to his lips. Baekhyun just watches him carefully, eyes narrowed. “We stayed here, once, before…” Jongdae smooths his palm over one of the crumbling stones, dust flaking off beneath his hand. “... Making love all day, over and over and over--”

Baekhyun throws a rock at Jongdae immediately to shut him up, the stars across his cheekbones burning brighter in his embarrassment.

“Pervert,” Baekhyun chastises, huffing as he folds his arms across his chest. “I can’t believe you came here just to get off.”

Years amongst humans have done nothing for Baekhyun’s crudeness, it seems.

“I didn’t,” Jongdae corrects, immune to Baekhyun’s jabs, unbothered. “But I was reminiscing.”

Baekhyun still shakes his head, red in the face, always so bashful. It’s a very earthen trait, that, Jongdae has found, to be shy or flustered --Jongdae, being the centre of the solar system and all, may have an ego problem that prevents him from feeling such things.

“This place used to look so different,” Baekhyun says quietly, and Jongdae is glad he at least remembers, the palace of gold and silk and diamonds, taller than the sky itself, only a representation of a fraction of Jongdae’s true glory, back then. Jongdae had taken Baekhyun to the temple and pushed him against the gold-covered walls to kiss him, run his hands over his skin so that Baekhyun would laugh when he was tickled and gasp when Jongdae touched elsewhere. It had been a temple built for worship of the sun, but only the moon had ever been exalted in that place, coveted by Jongdae’s hands and mouth as he’d sung praise, kissed every inch of skin, treated Baekhyun like the god he was beneath his fingertips for _weeks_ , sleeping with regret each night but awakening happily to Baekhyun’s kiss each morning.

Oh, how Jongdae longs to touch him like that again, if only for a moment.

“It’s old and weathered,” Jongdae replies. “Just like me.” He gives Baekhyun a hesitant smile, but feels that it’s fraying at the edges.

“No, you are still just as beautiful as the day we met,” Baekhyun retorts stubbornly, raising a hand as if to cup Jongdae’s cheek, unable to touch. As time had passed and the stories of Jongdae and Baekhyun had changed, their powers had weakened, their presence waned. No longer were they gods with the whole world at their fingertips, free-willed, reality itself bent to do their bidding, but Jongdae had become nothing but a ball of gas in the sky millions of kilometres away, Baekhyun just a floating rock, even farther, and touching had become impossible when everybody believes you’re separated.

Jongdae shakes his head. “Only you could ever remain so beautiful,” he insists, for Jongdae has seen his own reflection, and knows the powerlessness shows. No longer does his tanned skin shine or glow, his hair a dull black instead of blinding gold, his complexion greyed out with shadows hanging under his eyes. He is not half the god he used to be, and over time it only gets worse --with every curse at him for heating the planet, every scowl as he burns skin, brings heat, brings disease, brings another day… worship turns to hatred, and that is far more poisoning than no belief at all.

“I’ve told you, Jongdae,” Baekhyun corrects softly, voice as sweet as honeydew. “I only shine because of you.”

“Impossible,” Jongdae refutes. “You are beautiful because you’re _you_ , and you must be even more beautiful at night when I’m not there, although I can’t imagine it…”

Baekhyun laughs softly behind his hand, flustered. “I wish you could see it, one day,” he says wistfully. It’s not the first time they’ve both wished as much, and it won’t be the last. “The night. I want you to see the stars, to meet them…” Baekhyun trails off. “They don’t shine like they used to with all that waste humans put into the air, but they’re still beautiful. I think you’d like them.”

Jongdae hums, feeling sleepy as his eyes droop, once. No, not now, he doesn’t want this to end yet, he needs more _time_.

“I’d like to meet them too,” Jongdae admits, forced into sitting down as his legs give out, power draining. “But mostly I just want… to see… you…”

Baekhyun crouches beside him, smiling. It’s getting harder to fight the sleepiness the longer Jongdae does, a never-ending battle he can’t ever win.

“You always see me, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says. “I’ll always come back to you.”

Jongdae shakes his head, weak. “Not the same…” he mumbles, eyes slipping shut. He feels the brush of a flower’s petals across his forehead, the closest thing Baekhyun can give him to a kiss; then, the sun sets, and Jongdae falls asleep.

  
  


Baekhyun had been his name.

Whether that had been given to him, or he’d chosen it; Jongdae had neither asked nor cared. It was a beautiful name, fitting, but not half as beautiful as Baekhyun himself.

“They have so many names for all sorts of the same things,” he’d rambled, dragging Jongdae through the small town. Baekhyun was always filled with so much energy even in the day when he should have been sleeping, stubbornly remaining in the sky, eager to experience the world up close and to have Jongdae show him all of it, just as he had always promised. Jongdae had been more than happy to oblige. “It makes no sense; why must you and I have so many faces?”

“Humans are weird,” Jongdae had explained, making a flower materialise in his fingertips from thin air. Gods could do that, back then. “I don’t waste my time trying to understand them.”

Jongdae had reached forward easily, tucking the flower behind Baekhyun’s ear. The stars across his cheeks had flared and sparkled brighter in a manner Jongdae couldn’t decipher; Jongdae may not have wanted to understand humans, but he did want to understand Baekhyun.

“Don’t you want to know more?” Baekhyun had asked, wide-eyed and curious, gesturing around them. Nobody looks at Jongdae, but they all give Baekhyun a wandering glance, as if pondering why he’s out here before forgetting him altogether. It irked Jongdae, immensely, he’d wanted the stupid humans to bow to Baekhyun the way he deserved, to offer him their measly lives for they had nothing better to give... but Baekhyun’s existence was still new, his influence still growing; they would kneel to him in time, Jongdae would make sure of that.

Besides, Baekhyun had once told him, he was more worshipped at night anyway.

Not that Jongdae would ever witness it.

“Not really,” Jongdae had answered, indifferent. Each day that Baekhyun had remained stubbornly in the sky they’d been spending together, wandering the earth, seeing the different civilisations, hand in hand. It had only proved to Jongdae that he was destined to fall in love with Baekhyun after all. “I don’t care for humans. They’re so… inconsistent.”

Baekhyun had laughed, high-pitched and beautiful. “Trust the man that sets and rises like clockwork each day to say that.” He’d tugged Jongdae closer towards him, then, holding his hand between their chests. “ _I_ , however,” Baekhyun had started, pointedly. “Take a new shape each night, and I happen to like change.”

“Change is good,” Jongdae had replied easily, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Baekhyun’s ear, the one without the flower, and cup his chin. “Sometimes. Change is what brought you to me. Without it I’d have been stuck here alone, forever.”

“I was always with you, though,” Baekhyun had said without missing a beat, gazing into Jongdae’s eyes unwaveringly, not hurt by the brightness of which he couldn’t help but shine. “Watching. Listening. Ever since the start.”

“I know,” Jongdae had replied, and Baekhyun had leaned up to kiss him, a simple press of lips that had burst like the blooming of a million flowers in Jongdae’s chest, the explosion of a newborn star or the collapsing of an entire solar system, the birth of an entire universe itself. Kissing Baekhyun had felt more right in that moment than anything else Jongdae had ever done in his existence, which is why he’d had no qualms opening Baekhyun’s mouth, tasting the breath of stars and the infinity of the universe itself on his tongue, Baekhyun shining even brighter beneath the touch of Jongdae’s glowing palms.

“I…” Baekhyun had said when he’d pulled back for air, gasping and inhaling a piece of Jongdae’s heart with it. “...Have wanted to do that for a long time.”

Cupping Baekhyun’s cheek, swiping his thumb across the constellations over his cheeks as they twinkled beneath Jongdae’s fingers, Jongdae had said, “Me too.”

Then he’d leaned back in again.

  


 

 

Sunlight flickers through the train’s window as it passes by the great, glass columns, obscuring the passengers in shadow, on and off.

The girl sitting next to Jongdae doesn’t know he’s there, refuses to look at him, but Jongdae listens to her conversation anyway, complaining that she hasn’t seen her boyfriend in months ever since he’d moved away, and how she just wants to see him again, to kiss him. Jongdae isn’t sure at what stage the life of a billions-of-years-old celestial body could be related to the experience of a mortal infant whose life is so infinitesimal Jongdae could blink without seeing a thing, but here he is.

Jongdae gazes out the window again, fingers curling around the bags in his hands, sighing. Once upon a time he’d had a thousand names and a thousand faces, each facet of Jongdae living at once and yet not at all, simultaneous existence under Jongdae’s great reign as every human saw him a different way. The god of all creation, the wife of the moon, the son of thunder with his great golden chariot, the father of mankind, the mother of the emperors… but now what little belief remains behind pales in comparison to the rest, and so Jongdae merely has one face, one name, one measly little existence.

He grumbles beneath his breath, bitter, and holds the shopping bags closer to his chest. A thousand years ago Jongdae could have bent the earth at his feet to carry him, materialised anything he wanted out of thin air, but now he has to suffer the woes of _public transport_ and  _the economy_. Eugh.

“Oh?” A familiar voice asks, and Jongdae turns immediately, grinning by reflex as Baekhyun stands in front of him, head tilted. “What’s all this?”

“A surprise,” Jongdae replies, indignant, holding the bags closer to his chest as Baekhyun tries to peer through them. He won’t see anything more than fertiliser and some nutrients, but that’s a part of the surprise. “For you. No peeking.”

“Okay okay,” Baekhyun relents, hands raised as he leans back. With each peek of the sun behind the great tall buildings the train passes, Baekhyun turns translucent again, like he’s not really in front of Jongdae, a ghost. “But I’m curious. Why are you surprising me?” Realisation passes over Baekhyun’s face before Jongdae can even open his mouth to answer. “Oh! It’s soon, isn’t it?”

“I’m surprised you’ve forgotten,” Jongdae teases slyly, pretending as if it isn’t the only thing he himself looks forward to most with each passing day --other than seeing Baekhyun, of course.

“Well, unlike Mr. Marks-the-passage-of-time-itself, I can never be bothered keeping track of the days…” his gaze trails out the window, wistfully. Jongdae sees the pale sliver of the moon behind him through the glass. “... I haven’t prepared any surprises for you, now I feel bad.”

“I don’t want any surprises,” Jongdae replies easily. “I only want you.”

Baekhyun laughs, swinging on the pole in front of Jongdae’s seat idly. “You keep saying that, but eventually you’re going to realise I’m a shitty lover for never getting you anything.”

Jongdae shakes his head immediately, insistent. “The greatest gift of all is being able to love you.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, although he can’t help but smile, which helps Jongdae’s grin grow even wider. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“I’m in love,” Jongdae corrects, matter-of-factly. “I’ve heard the humans say that can make you rather crazy.”

Baekhyun laughs dryly, a short huff, his hand reaching forward to touch Jongdae’s face before remembering, freezing in mid-air and pulling back, spreading out his fingers.

“I miss you,” Jongdae says suddenly, raising his palm so that it mirrors Baekhyun’s, his hand far more slender and beautiful than Jongdae’s, glowing the softest silver even here. Their hands reflect each other, but they do not touch. It's strange to miss someone who is right in front of him, but here he is.

“You see me all the time,” Baekhyun replies wryly, smile soft, but a little sad.

“It’s not the same,” Jongdae argues, standing to run his palms over Baekhyun’s outline, up his thighs, his hips, his waist, from his shoulder down his bicep, around his cheek and down his throat, resting over the centre of his chest. Baekhyun shivers even though Jongdae isn’t touching him. “You know it isn’t.”

“I do,” Baekhyun agrees, closing his eyes and raising his hand too, so that it rests over Jongdae’s heart. Jongdae wishes Baekhyun could feel how it beats for him beneath his palm, how every time Baekhyun nears it slows down, calmed, soothed by his presence, the pulse of a sun’s core that shines only for him. “Sometimes, I wish…” Baekhyun trails off, but Jongdae knows what words he wishes to say, because their hopes and dreams are one and the same.

“If I could find a way to turn back time, I would,” Jongdae says easily, staring at Baekhyun’s face with determination glowing behind his eyes. If Jongdae had the choice to take Baekhyun back to before, when they were young and powerful and reckless and _free_ , he would. He would within a single heartbeat. “If I could rise in the other direction, I would.”

Baekhyun laughs shortly at that, exasperated. “Jongdae, you can’t change the laws of the universe.”

“I could try,” Jongdae insists, hand curling into a fist over Baekhyun’s heart. “I’d do anything for you.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes gently, laughing at Jongdae in a manner that’s far too bittersweet, and a single tear falls from the corner of his eye, trailing beneath the clouds of stars to fall down his cheek. Jongdae yearns to brush it away, to cup Baekhyun’s face and kiss his eyelids, but he can’t, can only hold his palm out beneath Baekhyun’s chin as the crystal moon tear falls into his hand, curling his fingers around it. The only piece of Baekhyun he can possible touch.

“Jongdae…” Baekhyun starts slowly, gentle, opening his eyes again. “We are not the gods we once were,” his smile is pitying, then, with great amounts of sadness behind it. “A rock in the sky and a ball of flaming gas cannot change time.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow then, confused. “Well, of course we can’t if you believe it to be that way,” he says, irked. “Is this what you think? That we’re not worth fighting for?”

“Jongdae,” Baekhyun amends quickly, placating. “That’s not what I said.” Jongdae’s anger cools, but it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Sometimes, things must be accepted for the way they are. We can’t change that.”

“Accepted?” Jongdae repeats, laughing bitterly in disbelief as his voice rises. “I’ll never accept this fate, I’ll fight it for as long as I must.” He looks at Baekhyun as if he’s a new moon entirely, a different face, seeing him in a brand new light Jongdae doesn’t enjoy the colour of. “I-- I can’t believe you would give up so easily.”

The same moon that had looked at Jongdae when no one else would, who had smiled at him to welcome his fall to earth, who had listened to his songs and his ramblings and complaints and fell down to earth, too, just to tell him his name. The same moon that shines every night without fail, who illuminates the darkness, who pulls at the tides, who persists throughout the day even when he should be sleeping, just so the sun won’t die of loneliness.

To think someone so stubborn could give up so easily...

“I have watched over this planet longer than you have stepped foot on it,” Baekhyun starts, his voice ice cold to clash against Jongdae’s burning anger. “I have seen magma become water become earth become ice, I have seen coasts change with every push of the tides, civilisations rise and fall to ashes, life itself bloom spontaneously beneath my eyes…” His mouth is a hard line, and the small part of Jongdae that’s too tired to be angry aches to see Baekhyun smile again. “Time moves forward, things change, and change is natural and unhelped, out here. You are not the god you once were, you are not the same shining star you had once been…” Baekhyun steps back, placing distance between them for the first time in thousands of years. “Not even _you_ can fight change, Jongdae.”

“I can’t believe you’d surrender yourself to this,” Jongdae half-shouts, angry, yes, but hurt even more so. “Surrender _us_. Is time itself not worth fighting, to you? Even if it means a chance at being with me here, longer?”

“Of course it’s worth fighting, Jongdae,” Baekhyun relents, looking away to avoid Jongdae's face, and hide his own hurt expression. “But time cannot be fought, and you waste what little of it we have left trying to do so. Perhaps--” He cuts off, swallowing thickly. “--Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting.”

Jongdae stills then, horrified. Horrified that Baekhyun has resigned himself to this fate, horrified that Baekhyun has given up, horrified that Baekhyun thinks that they are anything less than infinite, that time itself -- _Jongdae’s_ creation-- would ever dare to run out on them.

“I waste nothing so long as it gives me the hope of ever being with you again,” Jongdae says, voice low and dark, scaring Baekhyun as he steps back again, wide-eyed. “Glad to know that sentiment isn’t exchanged both ways.”

“Jongdae--” Baekhyun tries, pleading, reaching out with one hand as Jongdae pulls back to avoid the impossible touch. The sky glows brighter with Jongdae’s anger, burning in his blood.

“It’s daytime,” Jongdae says, as cold as the sun could ever possibly manage. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Baekhyun is fading even now, right in front of Jongdae’s eyes, transparent and hardly there.

“Fine,” Baekhyun snaps, irritated and petulant, scowling at Jongdae with a sort of anger Jongdae has never seen in him before. “But don’t expect me to come back.”

The sun peaks into the middle of the sky, the train passes under a shadow.

Baekhyun is gone.

  
  


Jongdae had never seen a constellation before, but Baekhyun had described them to him anyway.

“And over there,” he’d pointed, but Jongdae hadn’t followed the line of his finger, staring at Baekhyun’s face instead. “Is Orion’s belt... I guess he’s not wearing any pants? Over there,” his finger had moved again, drawing a new shape in the blue sky, and Jongdae’s gaze had remained unchanged. “Well, that’s an unnamed one, but I just call it Jongdae.”

Jongdae’s hopeless admiration of Baekhyun when he’s passionate about something had ceased, suddenly. “Oh?” Jongdae had asked, smirking, propping his head up onto his elbow on the grassy field they were laying in. “And why’s that?”

“Because it’s shaped like your smile,” Baekhyun had explained easily, as Jongdae had rolled on top of him to kiss down his neck and Baekhyun had sighed gently in bliss. “My favourite constellation of all.”

Jongdae had pulled back then, trailed his fingers over Baekhyun’s cheeks.

“My favourite constellations are these ones,” he’d said softly, tracing out mindless lines over Baekhyun’s skin. “I think they’re better than your version.” His hand had dropped to undo the front of Baekhyun’s robe so that it had fallen off his shoulders, kissing down his neck and collarbones and the tops of his arms, hands still carving out patterns in the stars dotted there, too.

“They’re not,” Baekhyun had replied, a hand threading through Jongdae’s hair to give short, encouraging tugs. He’d moaned when Jongdae had bit his smooth skin, sucking on the mark to leave a patch of sunburn. “I wish I could show the real stars to you to prove it.”

Jongdae had pulled back, the mood suddenly somber, pensive. Baekhyun held his face with both hands and tilted Jongdae’s chin towards him, smiling reassuringly.

“I try to stay awake,” Jongdae had admitted, holding Baekhyun's wrists. “Every dusk, I fight it, and yet…”

“One day,” Baekhyun had promised, and pulled Jongdae in for a soft, sweet, closed-mouth kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “One day you will fight it and win.”

“You must show me everything,” Jongdae had quickly insisted, gripping one of Baekhyun’s hands in his own, frantic. “The stars, the darkness…” he’d slowed down, next, raised Baekhyun’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, his palm, the inside of his wrist. “...You." Baekhyun had shivered beneath Jongdae's touch, his hot, summer's breath ghosting over Baekhyun's skin. "You must show me how you shine, properly. When my stupid light isn’t obscuring it all...”

Baekhyun had laughed, freed his hand so he could crawl into Jongdae’s lap and hold his face, place a kiss to his forehead, his eyelids, his nose and cheeks, depriving him of a kiss to his lips in what Jongdae had known to be purposeful and tactical move, typical of Baekhyun.

“How many times must I tell you? I need your light.” Baekhyun had repeated, his voice mocking hopelessness as he’d sighed, all too fond. “I only shine because of you.”

“Then,” Jongdae had replied, hands rising to settle on Baekhyun’s waist as he’d leaned into the hands touching his cheeks. “I only shine _for_ you.”

Baekhyun had chuckled, pure disbelief. “You were shining long before I was born.”

Jongdae had shook his head. “That’s because I was always waiting for you, to make sure you were born in light,” he’d insisted. “Even if I didn’t know it.”

Baekhyun had looked at Jongdae with an indescribable expression, for words cannot begin to describe the love between gods, eternal and infinite, always expanding like the universe itself. Baekhyun had kissed Jongdae as the sun had sailed across the sky, running out of time, and had made quick work of undressing him, kissing every mole on his sun-kissed, golden, glowing skin, and telling Jongdae that he’d always shine because of him, forever and ever, while Jongdae had returned the sentiment, promising to stay in the sky for all time if that’s how long it would take to see Baekhyun again..

If they were humans, perhaps _I love you_ would have sufficed instead.

But they were not humans, and Jongdae had felt his body grow weary as the sun had begun to set, the familiar sensation of sleep settling over his body as Baekhyun had risen higher in the sky, shone brighter.

“Stay,” Jongdae had insisted, gripping onto Baekhyun’s hand, white-knuckled. “Stay with me. Please. I don’t want to wake up alone.”

It’s lonely being the sun; always outshining everything else in the sky.

“You’ll never be alone,” Baekhyun had promised, resting his forehead on Jongdae’s chest, right over his heart. “I’m always with you.”

The last thing Jongdae had registered, was Baekhyun’s silver shining brighter than ever, and a gentle press of lips against his, a quietly whispered _good night_.

When he’d risen in the morning, it had been with Baekhyun kissing him awake, smiling as soon as Jongdae had opened his eyes.

“Good morning, my love,” Baekhyun had greeted, his celestial body still stubbornly lingering in the sky, just above the horizon.

“Good morning,” Jongdae had greeted easily, and then had kissed Baekhyun, again, and kissed him some more.

Another day brings with it the passage of time, the change of all things; but at least Jongdae did not have to endure this one alone.

  
  


For all the eons that Baekhyun and Jongdae have loved each other, never have they fought like this.

They’ve fought before --of course they have-- when they were young and reckless, always clashing over the smallest of things. But back then all Jongdae had to do was hold Baekhyun in his arms to beg for forgiveness, kiss his neck and cheeks and rock them from side to side until Baekhyun was laughing too hard to remember his anger.

But those were different times, and things are different now. Perhaps, even Baekhyun and Jongdae’s love has begun to change, too.

Jongdae sighs, and busies himself with his work instead, pulling out weeds and laying down new soil. Even if Baekhyun is mad at him, refusing to show his face, Jongdae’s anger has merely simmered down into regret and misery, and all he can hope to do is finish his gift before its time.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Jongdae looks to the sky, worriedly, where a thin crescent of Baekhyun can clearly be seen. It’s been months of Baekhyun peeking occassionally, watching Jongdae, but never making contact.

The loneliness destroys him.

Jongdae no longer cares that Baekhyun has surrendered himself to this state, to being a ghost, a pale impression, to being incapable of touching Jongdae or being touched in return, to Jongdae always falling asleep before nightfall, each and every day. No longer does his anger burn or simmer but instead it’s been replaced by sorrow, longing. Jongdae doesn’t care for any of those things, anymore, he just wants to hear Baekhyun’s laugh, wants to be teased for his own sappy, loving wording, and hear him sing songs that had once been written for Jongdae.

It reminds Jongdae of when he’d first fallen, alone, but even then he’d still had Baekhyun to talk to, in his own kind of way.

Jongdae has always been aware of his loneliness, the existence of the single sun in the sky, but Baekhyun has always fought to bend those rules. Baekhyun has always made the pain better.

Months are nothing but the blink of an eye to Jongdae, yet never before have they passed as slowly as this. He has become so aware of the emptiness of his days, the emptiness of his heart, how quiet and dull life is without Baekhyun smiling at him. Jongdae knows he illuminates the daytime for everyone, but for Jongdae, the only light in the sky has always been Baekhyun.

Besides, time is running short, and Jongdae has been preparing this gift for decades; an eclipse may happen once every few months, but it won’t be happening  _here_ for another hundred or so; despite his eternal existence, Jongdae simply cannot wait any longer.

So he remains there, day after day, falling into slumber at dusk and stirring with dawn, pulling weeds and laying out fresh soil, taking gentle care of the land around him. Every unopened flower bud shivers beneath Jongdae’s touch, and the nearby sunflowers turn to watch him as he passes, curious, vines curl towards him and wrap around Jongdae’s fingers, soothing the ache in his heart from his Baekhyun-shaped loss. Plants are one of the few things Jongdae likes about this prison, always growing towards him, needing him, worshipping him in their own, strange, quiet way where humanity has begun to forget. Jongdae laughs as a particular tree branch reaches down to touch his cheek, tickling his skin; they sense the sadness within him, and seek to ease it. For that, Jongdae will always be grateful.

As the garden Jongdae had created in Baekhyun’s honour with his bare hands grows, no godly powers or immortal tricks, Jongdae himself begins to grow more nervous, for the closer it arrives to the date of the eclipse, the longer it has been without Baekhyun showing himself. It’s funny, Jongdae thinks, that he’d never thought to question how Baekhyun had found him, all those times, because now Jongdae doesn’t know how to return the favour --it has always been Baekhyun to greet him, when he awakens, so perhaps it’s fitting that when Baekhyun wants to be lost Jongdae can no longer find him.

Jongdae rises in the morning on the day of the eclipse --predicted by the humans, of course, years ago-- with baited breath, the sky streaked in orange and blue as the sun crests above the horizon, the dawn of a new day. Baekhyun is nowhere to be seen, but if Jongdae closes his eyes and concentrates, he can feel him, nearby, feel the way his chest fills and his lungs expand, feel the way his own power draws Baekhyun nearer, closer and closer still.

When Jongdae opens his eyes, a shadow covers the sun’s surface, blocking out its light, partially, and Baekhyun is there in front of him, as beautiful as the last day Jongdae had seen him, but different. Baekhyun’s hair is black, the stars on his skin replaced with sunspots, the black dots of damaged vision when one is foolish enough to stare into the eyes of an eclipse, his irises as void as the dark matter of the universe.

Jongdae reaches for him immediately.

Baekhyun reaches out right back.

“I missed you,” Jongdae blurts out, and envelops Baekhyun in his arms, feeling the way Baekhyun melts at the touch, breathless with relief. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry just-- please--” Jongdae is desperate now, sobbing. He doesn’t have time to explain his gift like he had planned, doesn't have time to apologise, all he wants is to hold Baekhyun in the few short minutes of the eclipse while he still can. “--Please don’t leave me again.”

Baekhyun’s eyes soften, apologetic, and he kisses Jongdae, something Jongdae is eager to return, cradling Baekhyun’s face in his hands in hopes of keeping him there, longer.

“When I was born,” Baekhyun breathes out, a cloud of moondust falling from his mouth. “I opened my eyes, and you were the first thing I saw.” Jongdae searches Baekhyun’s face, rubbing his thumbs along his cheeks, confused but patient. “And I have loved you ever since. That will never change, Jongdae, I just needed time.” Baekhyun’s hand lies over Jongdae’s, squeezing. “Time I fear I may be running out of.”

He turns towards the sun, _himself_ , already beginning to become unshadowed.

“Don’t go,” Jongdae begs, desperate. “Not again. Please I-- I don’t want to exist for a second if you’re not by my side.”

“I’m always with you, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, the faintest smile on his lips as his shadow form begins to fade, already, the eclipse soon ending. “I’ve always watched over you, and I’ll always be up there in the sky for you, even if you can’t see me,” Baekhyun presses their foreheads together, squeezing his eyes shut desperately. “Always shining because of you.”

Baekhyun thumbs the tears of molten gold off of Jongdae's cheeks, and kisses him, Jongdae tasting starlight and shadows beneath the shape of Baekhyun's smile.

And Jongdae realises it, then, eyes widening as he stares at Baekhyun, curled in his arms, that Baekhyun has always shone for Jongdae, and Jongdae for Baekhyun, too. The humans beliefs had trapped them, poisoned them, killed them, yet still they’d continued to live and breathe, to exist; Jongdae believed in Baekhyun as much as Baekhyun believed in him. Jongdae hadn’t fallen to earth because the humans had, but because Baekhyun had wanted him closer, and Baekhyun had fallen to earth because Jongdae had wished the same for him. As the humans had forgotten them, they’d thought themselves dying, and so dying gods they became, yet they’d always kept shining for each other, because that’s what _they’d_ believed. Jongdae has always believed Baekhyun to be beautiful, so beautiful Baekhyun has always been.

Jongdae inhales sharply, body burning with a sensation he has not felt in a very, very long time.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae tries, desperate; the eclipse is ending, and they are running out of time. Jongdae simply cannot wait another day to see Baekhyun again; his grip around Baekhyun tightens, even as he feels them being pulled apart. “Baekhyun, we can fight it.”

Baekhyun looks at Jongdae, confused. “What?”

“We can fight it,” Jongdae continues, wild grin growing across his face. “Don’t you get it? We still shine because of  _each other_.”

Baekhyun searches Jongdae’s face. “What are you saying, Jongdae--”

“Fight it,” Jongdae urges, pulling Baekhyun closer even as the universe wishes to push them apart, the last sliver of the sun blotted out above their heads. “Believe that we can fight this, believe that we are the same gods we once were, believe that we can be together and we _will_.”

“I--” Baekhyun tries, and he’s struggling now, trying to pull away from the pain, but Jongdae’s hands keep him in place. “--I can’t, please, Jongdae, it hurts--”

“You must,” Jongdae urges, voice shaking. He clings to Baekhyun tighter. “Baekhyun, _please_.”

There are tears in Baekhyun’s eyes, wells of dark void pricking at the corners of them, but he stills, jaw clenching, nodding at Jongdae in determination. Jongdae knocks their foreheads together, exhaling star matter, and through the sharp, excruciating, indescribable pain in his chest, he fights it, screams as the universe attempts to pry Baekhyun from his fingers but refuses to let go, thinks in his heart that Jongdae is a god, and he will not bow down to somebody else’s rules any longer. He can feel the power stir within his chest, the flood of glory rushing through his veins as he and Baekhyun kiss, desperately, tasting each other’s tears and noises of guttural pain, Baekhyun murmuring words of worship as Jongdae nips at his throat, fists his shirt, mutters prayers and hymns that had once been written in Baekhyun’s honour, believing in the power of one another. Jongdae doesn’t dare open his eyes, in fear that Baekhyun may disappear before them, that the eclipse will end and touching becomes yet another impossible task for dying gods --but no, they’re not dying, Jongdae refuses to believe it.

Baekhyun keeps kissing Jongdae, arms wound around his neck as Jongdae’s hands rest beneath his thighs, hitching Baekhyun’s legs around his hips and lifting him with ease, and Jongdae can still feel it, that push between them, trying to force them apart, but Baekhyun’s only retaliation is to press closer, until their bare hearts themselves are touching, beating in unison.

“Jongdae,” Baekhyun breathes out, a murmured prayer. “Jongdae, look.”

Only through Baekhyun’s voice does Jongdae dare to open his eyes, seeing that the eclipse has long since finished, the moon nowhere to be seen, yet Baekhyun is still right here, in front of him, silver and beautiful and _real_.

Baekhyun laughs wildly with delight and disbelief and hysteria, holding Jongdae’s glowing, golden hand up, no longer greying or dying. “What have we done?”

“Something we should have done centuries ago,” Jongdae mumbles, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth before falling to his knees and lowering Baekhyun onto the ground, his hair falling out behind him, and worshipping him the way he truly deserves, the way Jongdae hasn’t been able to for millenia.

As the sun begins its descent and Jongdae grows weary, he isn’t too bothered by it, laying his head on Baekhyun’s chest and listening to his heartbeat as Baekhyun’s hand runs through his hair, humming beneath his breath as Jongdae traces constellations out over the stars on Baekhyun’s stomach.

“I still can’t believe after all this time--” Jongdae frantically presses a palm over Baekhyun’s mouth, eyes wide. Baekhyun licks his hand in retaliation, and Jongdae pulls back, grimacing. “--I mean, I _can_ believe after all this time…” Baekhyun corrects, while Jongdae wipes his palm. “...We’d only been killing ourselves.”

Jongdae hums lazily, flexing his hands. He doesn’t need to see himself to know his body is glowing again, his visage illuminated, his hair a blinding gold; he can feel the power in the way it courses through him, all because of Baekhyun.

“The belief of gods is strong,” Jongdae replies, touching Baekhyun’s cheek gently, who leans into it. Jongdae’s chest is still alight with the joy of being able to reach for Baekhyun again. “But our love is even stronger.”

Baekhyun groans, and Jongdae just cackles in response, ignoring the way Baekhyun pushes at his face as if to remove Jongdae. He’s never leaving Baekhyun’s side again for as long as he lives. (Which will be forever; or at least, very close to it.)

“You are terrible!!!!” Baekhyun whines, holding both hands over his face to hide his embarrassment. “I should disappear again just to punish you.”

“Don’t,” Jongdae sternly says, immediately, a hand tugging at Baekhyun’s wrist to gaze into his eyes and the galaxies swirling within them. “Don’t ever leave me like that again, Baekhyun. I don’t think I can withstand it.”

Baekhyun softens, brushing back Jongdae’s hair, who exhales at the touch.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun mutters. “I suppose I was punishing you for my own anger…” Jongdae just shakes his head, pulling Baekhyun’s hand towards his lips and kissing his palm. All is forgiven. “You never showed me that surprise, by the way.”

Jongdae blinks, once, twice, realising. “Oh!” He exclaims suddenly, sitting up and grinning. “This is it.” He holds his arms out, grinning.

“Your nudity?” Baekhyun asks. “Can’t say I’m disappointed but it’s not really a surprise--” he’s cut off by Jongdae tugging at his ear. “Ow!”

“The garden,” Jongdae corrects, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am,” Baekhyun agrees, smiling dopily, then pushes himself to be sitting too before Jongdae can argue that _he’s_ the lucky one, glancing around. “Not that I don’t love your gift,” for all that it represents, the amount of _effort_ Jongdae had to put in with a power akin to a mortal’s, eugh. “But the flowers haven’t bloomed yet.” Baekhyun reaches out to a nearby bud, and it giggles beneath his touch, ticklish.

“That’s because they only bloom at night,” Jongdae says, and Baekhyun’s eyes widen. Queen of the night, daylilies, four o’clocks, sacred datura, night phlox… Jongdae has wandered the earth for decades to obtain these plants from across the world, nestling them between the tall trees he had planted that had once been saplings, wrapped by the vines of the moonflower, a love letter to Baekhyun, one hundred years in the making. “I wanted you to have a place of worship again, and…” Jongdae trails off, feeling for the first time in his life, _embarrassment_. This garden had always meant to be a temple for Baekhyun, in its own special way. “... I wanted you to have something to remember me by, during the night.”

Baekhyun’s smile is indescribable, the stars on his skin flaring to life, the look of wonder, awe, love across his face --it’s an image Jongdae will treasure for the rest of eternity.

“I won’t need it,” Baekhyun says easily, shaking his head and grasping Jongdae’s hand between his. “Because you’ll be there with me.”

Jongdae’s eyelids are beginning to droop even as his heart soars with the promise of Baekhyun’s words, the sleepiness settling over him, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon. If belief can keep Baekhyun here even during the day, if belief can bring them to touch again, then...

“Promise me you’ll wake me up before sunrise?” Jongdae asks, laying back as his hand touches Baekhyun’s cheek.

“Of course,” Baekhyun promises, leaning down to kiss Jongdae’s forehead. “Anything for you, my god.”  

  
  


Jongdae wakes up in a field of navy and silver, gasping and confused. Never before has he seen such a darkness like this, and when Jongdae reaches out to touch the nothingness, it doesn’t run away from him, his skin dull and dim. If anything, it just seems to wrap around him closer.

Jongdae is alone, but there's a pull in his chest, tugging him to where Baekhyun is, where Baekhyun needs Jongdae to be; he stands and follows it immediately, now understanding how Baekhyun had made his way to Jongdae, all those times...

“Good night my love,” Baekhyun says as he senses Jongdae's approach, the first time that he has ever said it as a greeting instead of a farewell, standing in the middle of Jongdae's temple to him, who inhales sharply at the sight. Baekhyun is _glowing_ , opaque, a blinding mix of white and silver as the stars not only dot his skin but crowd around him, follow his every movement, sparkling in a way Jongdae has never seen before as he slowly stands, reaching out to touch Baekhyun, confirm that this is _real_.

“I’m awake…” Jongdae says, unable to fathom it, and although he feels weak, and sickly, his own impression upon the earth’s surface faint, he’s _awake._  Is this how Baekhyun has felt throughout the days, for centuries, bearing this pain? Whatever, it's worth it all if it means Jongdae can see him like this. “I’m actually awake.”

“Of course you are,” Baekhyun laughs, the most beautiful sound in the world, and Jongdae closes his eyes as Baekhyun kisses his forehead. “I believed you would wake up for me, after all.”

And Jongdae had believed that he’d come back to Baekhyun, always, for the rest of time.

"But I don't understand..." Jongdae says in wonder, still in awe at Baekhyun's true beauty. "How..."

“It’s your light,” Baekhyun explains, softly, craning his neck to the sky to look at where he sits, full-bodied and glowing, the most beautiful thing Jongdae has ever seen, surrounded by stars. Standing here in the garden of now-open flowers that sing Baekhyun’s name out in praise, gorgeous petals of every imaginable colour, Jongdae knows that nothing will ever compare to this moment, feeling like he’s seeing Baekhyun, the _true_ Baekhyun, for the first time. “I carry it with me, reflect it onto the earth, and it allows you to be here, even at night.”

Jongdae laughs shortly in disbelief, and pulls Baekhyun towards him, kissing him. Later, he’ll wish to see everything, to meet the stars and experience the night and admire Baekhyun’s beauty, properly, but for now, the simple slide of their lips as Baekhyun sighs into the kiss and threads his fingers through Jongdae’s hair, Jongdae’s hands at Baekhyun’s waist, smoothing down to his hips, for now, this is enough.

“My light cannot be seen here,” Jongdae mumbles quietly as their foreheads touch, Baekhyun’s hands running down his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the way it beats only for him. “You are shining because you’re you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jongdae?” Baekhyun says, exasperated. Jongdae leans forward to kiss him, brief. “I only shine because of you.”

Jongdae leans forward to kiss the stars that dust Baekhyun’s nose, who wrinkles it in response as he glows even brighter, and causes Jongdae to laugh, gently, heart far too full.

“I love you too,” Jongdae says.

* * *

 


End file.
